Brain Doodles
by Lupa Dracolis
Summary: Short, unrelated one-shots, mainly about Matt and Mello. WARNINGS: contains spoilers, and BL.
1. Reunited

**Summary: Matt and Mello meet up again, after they've both left Wammy's House.**

It was all thanks to Square Enix that I was reunited with Mello.

I'd left Wammy's House about six months before we met again, and as far as I was concerned, _he_ could find _me_. So I made myself a hacker's den, and set to work. I quickly rose through the ranks, but I didn't really care about stuff like that. It was a welcome distraction, that's all. The money I gained from the hacker jobs went on video games, cigarettes and food. I occasionally gave myself a treat – a sweet pudding – but never chocolate. That would be pushing the hurt too far.

Anyway, I'd left my den to go by the latest Final Fantasy game. I'd just come out of the game store in town, when I felt the hard, cold muzzle of a gun on the back of my neck. Don't get me wrong, inside I was freaking out. But at Wammy's I learnt to hide, if not delete, my emotions, so my voice was calm and steady as I asked what the guy wanted. Turned out, he wanted me to go with him.

By this time, I was pretty sure it was a cop (the guy was behind me, so I hadn't gotten a look at him yet). I was trying to think what I'd done, some hole I'd left, that let the police track me down. I couldn't think of any, but I guess if I _had_ left a hole, it'd be because I hadn't noticed it.

The guy with the gun to my neck led me to a battered blue car, with bullet holes in the back. He pushed me into the back seat, where another guy was sitting, gun trained on me. It began to dawn on me that these weren't the police after all.

"H…hey, I'm pretty sure you've got the wrong guy here!" I tried to tell them, but they ignored me. The rest of the drive passed in silence, with me longing for a cigarette, or at least my DS. After about half an hour, the car stopped, and we got out. They took me into a non-descript building, and up two flights of stairs, before we came into a large room. In the middle was a long, leather sofa, and sprawled on it was…

"Mello!" I shouted, running towards him. He looked up in amazement, before I jumped on top of him, hugging him hard. Behind me, I heard ominous clicking noises. Looking around, I saw the men who'd escorted me here pointing their guns at me. I froze, but Mello just looked annoyed.

"He's my friend, lay off." He told the men, who obediently lowered their guns.

Turns out Mello's a Mafia boss, and his old hacker recently got some new shoes. Cement ones. So, he was in the market. Turns out I'm the best of the best (no surprise there). He never even considered it'd be me. However, his goons were having some trouble locating me. They knew what I looked like, and the area I lived in, but nothing else. They were just about to give up looking when they saw me come out of the shop, so I say again; thank you, Square Enix.


	2. Matt's beginning number 1

**Summary: a possible back-story for Matt**

The shouts were loud from outside, the occasional gunshot mixed in. And yet, the child with bright red hair slept peacefully. His father raced into his room, to the sound of a loud smash downstairs, followed by cruel laughter.

"Mail? Mail, wake up!" The man shook his son awake, hand over the boy's mouth. Wide, worried green eyes opened. His father picked him up and carried him to his walk-in cupboard. Opening it, he placed the small boy in, and handed him a DS and headphones. Covering him with a blanket, Mail's father whispered "Stay here, you understand, Mail? Just put the headphones in, play your game, and stay quiet. Understand? Just play the game, and don't make a sound." The redhead nodded mutely, and his father pulled the blanket over his head.

The small boy was immersed in the world of his game; the characters on the screen dying as Mail shot them down. Their screams were loud in his ears; the screams of the characters. The headphones were good, Mail thought. The screams sounded very realistic; like they were coming from downstairs.

Two days later, the policemen found the tiny boy, holed up in his cupboard, staring fixedly at the blank, black screen of the run-down DS. He was still tapping the buttons futilely as they carried him downstairs, past the blood stains on the staircase.

The orphanage they took him to was large, and most of the children there were a few years older than the five-year-old Mail. Many were bullies, and they picked on Mail; making fun of his hair, his name, and his poor eyesight. As he grew older, Mail was taken to another orphanage, where he introduced himself as Matt, rather than Mail. The children at this orphanage were allowed more freedom than at the last one, so seven-year-old Matt was able to go into town with one of the carers, to get glasses for his eyes. However, once he arrived at the opticians, he fell in love with a pair of goggles. The orphanage carer was a kind lady, and she didn't have the heart to say no to the pleading green eyes, looking up at her from under a red fringe.

The goggles also helped protect Matt's eyes from the bright glare of the computer monitors he had grown fond of. One day, while at the town library, Matt came across an interesting challenge. He had been looking at different orphanages across the country, wondering where he would be sent next. There was a mention of a place called "Wammy's House" on one website, but he couldn't find any references to it elsewhere, no matter how hard he looked. Eventually, Matt found himself on a website he definitely shouldn't have access to, and he was liking what he saw. There was a photo of the grounds, and a description of the interior, and the purpose behind the orphanage; to train up a replacement for some person named L.

Matt typed "L" into the search bar, to try and work out who this mysterious figure was. Suddenly, the screen went white, with a large, ornate, black 'L' in the centre. Matt only just had time to see this before the computer screen flashed white again, then turned black.

The next day, an old man named Wammy arrived at the orphanage. He went to talk with the head carer, and then came and took Matt away.

Matt was happy at Wammy's House. He made friends with the scariest person there, so no-one bullied him anymore. Also, instead of being mocked for his intelligence, he was respected and admired, at Wammy's House. And though Matt himself didn't really care about that sort of thing, it was nice, in a way.


	3. Look at this

**Summary: Matt's musings, as he lies dying**

_Hey Mello, look at this!_ I was always the more observant of the two of us, noticing interesting things around me. But I would always point them out to Mello; sharing them with him.

_Hey Mello, look at this!_ It became instinctual; he was always nearby, always willing to look… be it a snake's shed skin, an intricate spider's web, or Roger scolding one of the other orphans at Wammy's.

_Hey Mello, look at this!_ For a time after he left, I still found myself saying it. Then I would pause, and remember, and anyone nearby would look at me sympathetically.

_Hey Mello, look at this!_ After a while, it became more of a tradition. No longer aloud, but inside my head, as if he could hear me, wherever I was.

_Hey Mello, look at this!_ These were the words I whispered when I found a hotel room, reserved under the name "Mail Jeevas". It wasn't mine.

_Hey Mello, look at this!_ Was my first thought as I saw the building I had tracked him down to, set alight.

_Hey Mello, look at this!_ Look at this red stuff trickling down my chest. How did it get here? I don't want to die, Mello. It's getting colder. Why is the light fading? I'm scared, Mello. And faintly, I can hear you replying.

_Hey Matt, look at this!_


	4. Matt's beginning number 2

**Summary: another possible back-story for Matt**

**Part 1**

Mail Jeevas was one of the few unfortunate children. There are not many in a situation like his, but there are more than none, which really is too many. Mail, at five years old, already knows plenty of swear words. They are shouted at him frequently by the people who should be his mother and father. I say should be, because these two do not deserve those titles. Titles are earned, and Isaac and Rachael Jeevas certainly have not earned the titles 'father and mother'. Mail, their only child, has no bedroom of his own. That would have meant moving to a larger, more expensive flat. Instead, he has a cardboard box in the corner of the small living room, next to the door leading to the toilet and shower.

Every morning, Mail gets up well before his parents, who have generally passed out the night before due to the consumption of too much alcohol and white powder from the plastic packets they receive from Mail's uncle. After getting dressed in the same, dirty clothes he wore yesterday, Mail leaves the flat, silently unlocking the door, and closing it just as quietly. He hurries to school, head down. He will stay there all day, sitting in the playground outside to do his homework. Once the janitors have finished cleaning up, and want to lock the gates, Mail will walk to the library in town. It stays open until seven, so that is how long he stays.

Mail loves the library, loves the many interesting books, and the computers. He spends his weekends here too. Eventually, however, it is seven o'clock, and Mail heads back to the flat. Upon arrival, he is immediately yelled at for being late. Having never been given a specific time to be back, all Mail knows is that he is treated worse if he is early.

Dinner for Mail is the cold leftovers of a McDonald's happy meal, chips sitting in congealed ketchup. Even so, he wolfs it down; it is the first bit of food he has had all day.

After enduring shouts and the occasional punch or kick thrown his way, Mail is allowed to crawl into his box, and go to sleep, ready to begin the process all over again tomorrow.

The next day is similar, but different. Whilst sitting in the playground after school, Mail has some company. An old man in a smart suit comes to talk with him about the scores he got in some school tests recently; apparently they were very good. The old man wants to go home with Mail, to talk to his parents, but they are still at work, so Mail and the old man go together to the library. Mail introduces him to the librarians, who are more like a family to him than his biological parents.

While Mail is looking for a new book to read the old man, who calls himself 'Watari', talks to the head librarian. She is a nice lady, who always gives Mail a sweet when he leaves the library for the night. Mail notices that as they are talking, the librarian, whose name is Sarah, indicates her arms and face with her hands. Mail realises that they must be talking about him, as the marks from where his parents beat him last night, and the night before, are still clearly visible.

When the library closes, Watari offers to drive Mail home. Mail, having never been warned about 'stranger danger', happily accepts. He has never been in a car before. While they are driving, Watari questions Mail about his life. He discovers that the boy has never watched TV, and has no knowledge of electronic games, outside of what he has listened to the other children at school talking about, and what he has read in the library. He has also never had a pet, or been read stories, and his untidy mop of bright, but dirty, hair speaks for itself.

Mail's parents are, for once, sober. When Rachael Jeevas answers the door from Watari's knock, she takes in his hand on Mail's thin shoulder, and his smart suit. She immediately demands that the man (who she assumes is from the police, or the social services) release her son. Watari acquiesces, gently telling the boy to gather his possessions. He leads Rachael and Isaac to the kitchen, where Mail cannot hear them, and talks to them, briefly and quietly. Isaac pulls his wife aside, and they have a muttered conversation. Finally, they turn to Watari with a nod and a smile.

The old man brings a cheque book out of his jacket pocket, and writes a figure with a lot of zeroes on a blank leaf. Signing it, he presents it to the two. He collects Mail on the way out, who is standing awkwardly, with two or three sets of clothing in his arms; all his worldly possessions. They go together down to Watari's car, and leave, never to come back.

Two days later, the police arrive at the Jeevas' block. They manhandle the pair out of their flat, and into the waiting squad car.

**Part 2**

Mail's first thought upon arriving at the orphanage known as Wammy's House was to its size. The building was the largest he'd ever seen, and it was surrounded by so much land, inside the fence. There were a few children dotted about; taking advantage of the burst of sunshine that arrives at the beginning of May. Shrieks of laughter could be heard from behind the building, and Mail couldn't help but grin widely. This place was happy.

Suddenly, a shriek of a different sort rang out across the large stretch of grass in front of the building. Mail could see two figures on the ground, one sitting astride the other, pummelling it repeatedly. Another figure was jogging slowly towards the two; that of a man, old, but not as old as Watari. The man pulled the two children apart, and began to shout at the one who had been on top. Watari shook his head, and led Mail up the path, to the front door.

Inside, Mail was taken to a room containing two beds, and told that he would share this room with a boy named Mello. After Watari left, Mail jumped upon the nearest bed. Grinning hugely, he bounced up and down on it, revelling in the ability to do so. A cough sounded from the doorway, making him look up. A boy with long, blond hair, clad in black, stood there. His arms were folded, and he was scowling at Mail.

"What're you doing to my bed?" He demanded. Mail cowered, and immediately slid off.

"S…sorry." He muttered. "I've never been on a bed before." The boy in the doorway gaped at him, but Mail did not notice. He was hanging his head, embarrassed. Glancing quickly over his shoulder into the deserted hallway, the blond boy shut the door. He then went over to the window in the middle of the wall, opposite the door, and pulled shut the curtains. Having done this, he pulled Mail back onto the bed by his arm.

"_This_ is how you jump on a bed." He told the younger boy.

**Part 3**

"You haven't told me your name." Mail's room-mate tells him as they lie in their beds. Mail is revelling in the feel of the soft mattress beneath him, the warm blankets and the fluffy pillow.

"W…Watari told me not to tell anyone. He said to keep it a secret." Mail explains. He likes the old man, and wants to do as he says.

"Well, yeah, but you need a new name! I can't just call you 'you', can I?" Mello explains. "It can be whatever you want, so long as there isn't somebody with that name already. Maybe something to do with your hair? You could be Red." Mail frowns. He doesn't like the sound of that name. Then he has an idea. He sits up in bed, and thumps his mattress.

"This will be my name." He announces. The blond boy opposite him looks sceptical.

"Mattress? Sounds like a girl."

"No, not Mattress." Mail agrees. "Matt."

**Part 4**

It was time for Matt's first class at Wammy's House. He and Mello, his room-mate, enter the classroom while it is still mostly empty. Matt moves automatically to the front, but is pulled to the side by Mello.

"Come sit by me." Mello tells him. Matt smiles happily, enjoying the feeling of being wanted by someone, but he is secretly a bit worried, as he knows he will have problems reading the whiteboard at the front from this far back in the room.

After a few minutes the classroom is full, and the teacher begins to write on the board. Her writing is large enough for Matt to be able to read it, so long as he squints his eyes. Matt does not notice Mello watching him squinting at the board. However, when the day's lessons are over, Mello takes Matt to the office of the man who, while younger than Watari, was still old.

"Roger!" Mello called, pushing open the door, without knocking. The man was sitting behind a desk. When he saw Mello he scowled, but Mello, it appeared, was used to this, as he ignored it and carried on talking.

"He needs glasses." He announces, pointing at Matt, who was standing nervously in the doorway. Matt's eyes widened in surprise. Did he? That would explain why he found it so hard to read the board. Roger sighs, and turns to glare at Matt, for the extra work this would mean for him. Matt cringes back against the doorpost.

"Fine. I'll take him to get some on Saturday. Now leave!" Mello marches back out of the office pulling Matt along behind him, deliberately not shutting the door behind them.

Matt knocks nervously on the door of the room he and Mello share. He hopes Mello will like the new glasses he got. They are not technically glasses, more like goggles, and the lenses have been tinted orange. When Mello calls out for him to enter he obeys, shutting the door behind him. As Matt enters, he finds the blond holding a small gaming device, tapping away angrily at the buttons. He glances up, and grins at the sight of Matt.

"Nice goggles." He tells the younger boy, who smiles sheepishly, and hesitantly points to the Nintendo DS Mello is holding.

"Could…could I please have a go with that?" He asks shyly. Mello hands it over.

The look of sheer joy on Matt's face when he completes the first level is enough to convince Mello to let him keep the DS. He didn't really like it much anyway; Roger gave it to him to work out his frustration and anger, rather than on the younger orphans, but it only served to get him angrier, as he repeatedly failed on the first level.


	5. First Encounter

**Summary: Matt arrives at Wammy's House, and is met by a rampaging chocoholic**

It was a bright, sunny morning when Matt arrived for the first time at Wammy's House. His happiness upon arrival was quickly dampened when an angry boy with long, blond hair pinned him to the wall as soon as he entered the building. Wammy's House, you see, was out of chocolate.

"Turn out your pockets!" The boy demanded of Matt, who shakily obliged. There was no chocolate in any of them. Mello growled angrily.

"Wh…what do you want?" Matt asked shakily.

"Chocolate." Came the immediate response. Matt immediately dived for the duffel bag he had let fall to the floor upon being attacked. He pulled open the zipper, and dumped the contents of the bag onto the floor. Searching through them, to the impatient and somehow ominous tapping of Mello's foot, Matt located a half-eaten bag of minstrels, and offered them to the chocoholic, who immediately grabbed the bag, and proceeded to down the contents. Matt stared in awe as the boy consumed half a bag of minstrels in under a minute. Just as he had finished the bag, a panting, red-faced man pulled open the door.

"Mello!" He called, not realising that the boy was right in front of him. He quickly did, however, and deposited a carrier bag full of chocolate in the boy's eager hands. It was only then that he took in the surroundings. Matt, sitting on the floor, his possessions spread out around him. The man, whose name was Roger, frowned.

"Mello, have you been bullying the new arrival?" He demanded. Mello took a large bite out of a Cadbury's bar and swallowed before replying calmly,

"No, he's my best friend." Roger frowned again. (He liked doing that)

"Then what's his name?" Mello blinked in surprise, and looked at the boy, now pulling his possessions back into the duffel bag.

"You." He nudged Matt with his foot. "What's your name?"

"M-Matt."

"Right, c'mon, Matt." Mello pulled the boy to his feet, told Roger "he's rooming with me" and walked off down the corridor, dragging a bemused Matt behind him. The sound of doors being unlocked could be heard; Mello had stopped screaming angrily, so he must have chocolate.

Roger sighed, and made a mental note to tell the quiet boy named Near that he would not be getting a room-mate after all.


	6. Near's apology

**Summary: Near apologises to Mello after his death. This is a drabble, so it's only 100 words long!  
**

I am sorry, Mello. I made you like you were, I see that now. Always trying to beat me, to do better than me… would it really have hurt me that much to let you top me in just one class? Apparently, yes. But do you want to know something interesting, Mello? I always envied you. You with your bright, strong, powerful emotions. You were bold and colourful, and everyone who knew you will remember you. But me? The shy, quiet little thing hunched over in a corner? No, I won't be remembered. I wish I, Near, was like you.


	7. Stating the obvious

**Summary: Matt's got a crush. Guess who's oblivious? Well, not for long!**

Everyone knew, it seemed, apart from Mello. Matt, of course, knew. Linda quickly picked up on it, and from her it spread to the rest of the occupants of Wammy's House. Near, although not understanding it, noted it down. Even Roger and Watari themselves noticed. But not Mello. Mello never noticed that, over time, Matt's puppy-dog-like devotion to him had developed into something deeper. That the red haired boy who was Mello's friend – his _only_ friend – longed for that friendship to be something deeper, something more meaningful. Of course, Matt expected no less from Mello. The blond was never any good at reading – or even, sometimes, just seeing – people.

Oh sure, he noticed them, but mainly only as annoying obstacles in his way, or as things that were going to get him stuff he wanted…like chocolate, for example. Matt only knew of three people who were higher than this in Mello's eyes; himself, Mello's one and only friend; Near, the only person Mello truly hated; and L, the person Mello strove to be, to prove himself to.

Matt could see definite advantages on his part in being seen as a human by Mello. The angry teen didn't hit him _nearly_ so hard as he did others in the orphanage, and the hits came his way much less often than they did the other inmates of Wammy's House. Matt was also allowed the privilege of sharing a room with Mello, and of being his sole confidante. He was also, on the rare occasions when Mello wasn't in a bad mood, actually allowed to touch his friend, as he was doing now.

Mello sat at their shared desk, pencil scribbling away at some extra-curricular maths he'd been working on, while Matt sat at his feet, head leaning on Mello's leg, playing yet another Mario game on his slightly battered DS.

"Hey, Mells?" Matt asked, trying to sound casual.

"What?" He snapped, glancing down to the boy at his feet. His anger melted, however, when he saw Matt had taken off his orange-tinted goggles, to look Mello directly in the eyes. With those large, green eyes staring up at him, Mello felt his resolve crumble slightly.

"We're good friends, right?" Matt asked.

"'Course we are." The blond confirmed. "The best of friends."

"Good." Matt nodded to himself. "And we'll always _be_ friends, right?"

"Yes, of course. Why wouldn't we?" Mello asked, getting annoyed again. Matt, reading his friend's emotions easily, grabbed a bar of chocolate from the box on the floor next to him and passed it up to the chocoholic. He waited until the blond boy had taken a large bite from the bar before continuing.

"It's just, I know how religious you are… and I thinimibegay." He said, mumbling the last bit.

"What? Speak up, Matt." Matt sighed, and twisted round so he was looking directly up at Mello.

"I'm gay, Mells." He explained, calmly and quietly. "I… I know you're real religious, so I'll get Roger to move me to a different room. And…I'll understand if you don't want to be friends anymore." He lowered his head dejectedly, and waited for an answer. The one that came wasn't been what he was expecting, and it threw him slightly.

"How do you know?"

"Wh…what?" Matt lifted his head to look at Mello in confusion.

"How d'you know you're gay? Who d'you fancy?" Mello elaborated. Mat blushed, cheeks going almost as red as his hair.

"You. I like _you_, Mells." There was a pause, until Mello sighed. If Matt didn't know better, he'd say it was a sigh of satisfaction.

"Well, good." Matt's head snapped back up again, to stare at his room-mate in disbelief. Mello laughed slightly at the look on Matt's face. "If it was anyone else, I'd have to kill them." He explained. "You're mine, Matt, and don't you forget it." With that, he turned back to his maths work. Matt grinned happily, and resumed his game, once more placing his head on Mello's leg. After about five minutes, Matt felt a hesitant pressure on the top of his head. It was Mello's hand. Matt pushed his head up, under the hand, and then leant it back on Mello's leg. Mello's hand remained on his head, and after a while began to stroke his hair softly. Every so often, Matt would reach into the box next to him and pass up another chocolate bar, on instinct. They stayed like this, in blissful coexistence, until it was time for dinner.


	8. Misinterpretation

**Summary: Mello confesses his feelings towards Matt!**

**Matt**

"Hey, Matty?" he called out to me in the dark. I blinked sleepily, then replied with an intelligent,

"Hrmm?" Real witty, Matt. Very suave.

"Matty, I… you know I'm no good with feelings and stuff, right?" He said hesitantly. Well, duh. I mean, this _is_ Mello we're talking about here. And yet I felt a stupid blush creep to my cheeks. _Don't get your hopes up, don't get your hopes up…_ I repeated to myself in a sort of mantra.

"Yeah, I know. Mells, what's the matter?" I squirmed around in bed, sitting up to look at him, grateful for the dim light, to hide my blushing cheeks that were probably as bright as my hair. He sat up too, on his bed.

"I… I think I have a crush on you." I froze in disbelief. _Mello? He likes _me_? But… I was so sure that my feelings were not returned. Was I blind? Was there something I was missing? Odd, because I was so observant!_ I was just about to reply, to tell him I felt the same way, when he said my name again.

"Matty?" I was just about to reply myself, so I stumbled getting the words out.

"Y…yeah?" I managed.

"Just kidding." My heart froze. _Kidding, of course he was kidding_. My braid chided at me._ But it's okay, he doesn't know how you feel. Keep up the act of the best friend_. So I threw my pillow at him and mumbled,

"Bastard." But inside, I was breaking.

**Mello**

"Hey, Matty?" my whisper carried across our shared room. There was silence for about a minute, then,

"Hrmm?" came his sleepy response. My fault for choosing midnight to talk about this, I suppose.

"Matty, I… you know I'm no good with feelings and stuff, right?" I started awkwardly.

"Yeah, I know. Mells, what's the matter?" He asked me, and I could hear him shifting about in his bed, sitting up. I did the same, and we sat facing each other across the dim room. I could vaguely make out his silhouette.

"I… I think I have a crush on you." I told him hesitantly. There was absolute silence for about five minutes. My face flushed bright red. _Should have known!_ I thought to myself angrily. _Why the hell would he like me back! Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ But, being me, I had a back-up plan.

"Matty?" I asked again.

"Y…yeah?" he replied, in a stunned sort of voice.

"Just kidding." There was another long pause, then he threw his pillow at me.

"Bastard." He muttered.


	9. A bit more loving

**Summary: Matt is a very loving person. Here's an explanation.**

"In this world, some people just need a bit more loving than others." That was my dad's favourite saying when he was alive. He'd often say it to me; so often that I believed it without question. It's how he said goodnight to me;

"Goodnight, Mail. Remember, some people need more loving." And I'd nod enthusiastically, agreeing without question.

I didn't realise it until later, but my mother was the one he was thinking of when he said this. She just up and left one day when I was two years old; and my dad had always blamed himself. Looking back on my early childhood I realise this, but of course back then I had no idea.

You see, my dad was a sort of psychiatrist-cum-social worker, and he was obsessed with his job. That's why he thinks my mother left; he didn't spend enough time at our home in the quiet suburbs, and instead spent his days in the city with 'troubled people'. Druggies, prostitutes, you name it, he's been there. Lonely, he called them. In need of love, and someone to share it with them.

It's really thanks to him that I grew up so affectionate, so craving of love. It almost killed me when the police came to our house to tell me, then seven years old, that my dad had been killed by a drug addict; one of the people he'd tried so hard to help. They took me to an orphanage, a rough place where I certainly didn't receive any affection. I was moved around a lot, from Home to Home, until finally, I came to a House. Wammy's House. Here they accepted the oddness that had kept me from being adopted or fostered from the other places. And it was here that I found my 'person who needs more loving'.

I am, of course, talking about my temper-filled room-mate, Mello. When I first arrived at Wammy's House, and was put in a room with him, I was scared, and stayed up late into the night, afraid he'd attack me if I fell asleep. It was at about midnight that I heard the snuffling from his bed across the room. It was a sound that I recognised easily, as I myself had spent many nights crying into a pillow after my father's death. So I got out of my bed, and crossed the room to his. For a bit, I just stood there, unsure what to do, until I eventually, hesitatingly, reached out and placed my hand softly on his shoulder. He hit me, hard, and I fell on the floor.

After sitting there for a moment in shock, I got back up again. I could have crept back to my bed, I could have begun to cry myself… I could even have gone and woken Roger and demanded a new room, that I could share with someone who wouldn't hit me for trying to comfort them. But it was then that I remembered what my dad had told me, so often I couldn't believe I'd forgotten. "In this world, some people need more loving than others."

So I got back up again, and crawled onto his bed with him, and held him in my arms. He struggled a bit, but I was a tough little eight-year-old, so I held on. Eventually he stopped struggling, and relaxed in my arms, sobbing quietly.

We spent every night for the next two years like that. We would wait until Roger had checked in on us, and then either he or I would crawl to the other's bed, and we would fall asleep in each other's arms. At age ten he decided we were too old for that, until the first thunderstorm. That night, he bolted across to my bed, and we carried on as we had before. Until, of course, L died, and he left.

After far too long a time, I found him again, and although he was scarred, inside and out, he still let me hold him at night.

And now, as we are getting ready to carry out his crazy plan that will most certainly result in our deaths, we go together.


	10. Bullies

**Summary: AU. Mello has a little…trouble with some school bullies.**

"Hey, gay-boy! Where's your boyfriend, gay-boy?" The shouts followed Mello as he strode down the school corridor. They had a good point. Where _was_ Matt? Mello peered into an empty classroom, in the vague hope that Matt would somehow, miraculously be in there. He wasn't, obviously. Mello cursed the boy under his breath.

They had been the only two from their secondary school – which ended in year eleven – to move to this sixth form college, and it was the first day of the school year. And Matt had gone off somewhere. And Mello couldn't find him. And he was being followed by annoying homophobes. And he was getting angry. Really, a Matt-less Mello isn't someone you want to get angry, but of course the idiots following him couldn't know that.

"Hey, gay-boy! D'you know how we know you're gay?" They called out. "'Cause you look like a girl! What's with the hair?" Mello froze. Nobody, but nobody, dissed the hair. Not if they wanted to live, anyway. He slowly turned to face the three boys who had been following him along the corridors. Really, had they nothing better to do?

"What did you say about my hair?" Mello asked flatly, fists clenched tightly by his sides. The three idiots laughed stupidly, ridiculously pleased that they had incited a response from him.

"It makes you look like a girl, gay-boy! Why, you got a problem with that?" The boy in front scoffed, comfortable in the knowledge that he was significantly taller and broader than Mello. His mistake.

"My hair does not look like a girl's." Mello stated, still allowing them a way out. Matt wouldn't like it if he whupped three guys on their first day of college.

"Uh, yeah, it does." One of the boys disagreed. "You look like a total girl."

With a yell of fury, Mello fell on them, taking all the boys by surprise. He was a furious blond tornado, kicks and punches flying around. After about ten minutes of this, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist, and yank him sharply backwards. He spun around to fight his new attacker, to find a red-haired, orange-goggled boy looking calmly back at him.

"Mells, what have I told you about fighting?" Matt scolded him.

"They called me gay-boy!" Mello protested. Matt sighed.

"Well, you are. So what's the problem?"

"…and they called my hair girly." Matt sighed again, and rolled his eyes under the orange goggles.

"C'mon Mells, let's go." was his reply, wrapping his arm around the blond's shoulders, and leading him away.

**Okay, for those of you who don't know: here in England, we have obligatory school up to year eleven (the year you turn sixteen), after which you can go to sixth form college for two years, and then to university. Most secondary schools (years 7-11) have a sixth form too, but not all.**


	11. Coming out of the closet

**Summary: Matt and Mello 'come out' to Wammy's House.**

"H…hey, Matt?" A voice asked me timidly. I paused my DS and looked up. It was a short, shy girl named Lingo. She could speak about seventeen different languages, but never raised her voice above a loud whisper. People're weird, I guess.

"Yup?" I answer cheerfully. Mello's currently badgering the canteen lady for more chocolate, so it'll be a while before he returns to scare her off.

"W…will you go with me to the carnival?" She blurted out. Oh dear. It's a _very_ good thing Mello wasn't here to hear that.

"Sorry, I'm going with Mello." I told her, but I don't think she understood what I meant, as her reply was to squeak:

"O-okay, maybe next time!" before scampering off. And a good thing too, because that's when Mello came back.

"Who was that?" He asked, although it was more like "Oo goss dat?" due to the chocolate crammed into his mouth. I, luckily, had had a great deal of experience with mouth-stuffed-full-of-chocolate Mello, so could understand him.

"Eh, some girl wanting to go to the carnival with me." I explained, casually. I should probably tell you that the carnival is in town for a total of three days, but us Wammy kids are only being taken on the last one, 'so we don't cause too much mayhem'. But trust me, we will anyway. But anyway, getting back to the story…

"What!" Mello raged, overreacting as usual. "You told her no, right?" He demanded of me. I grinned up at him.

"Well duh, I'm going with you. I told her that, but I think she thinks I meant as friends…which reminds me, when _are_ we going to 'come out' to the House?" We'd been going out for a few weeks now, so really, it was about time.

"I'll think of something." Mello promised me. I could hear the cogs turning in his head, so it was almost on automatic that I said,

"No knives." He looked kinda disappointed at that.

"…I'll think of something else, then."

The next day dawned bright and early, and Mello claimed he knew what to do. He would not, however, tell me what. Ah well, to be honest, I'm pretty used to it by now.

Anyways, he didn't do anything all morning, until we were lining up in the canteen for lunch. I was in front, because Mello always makes such a huge fuss about there not being enough chocolate on the menu. So, I was just reaching for a juice box when Mello calls my name.

Being the good little puppy-dog I am, I put down my tray and turn around, only to find Mello's lips on mine. I freeze for a minute before returning the kiss enthusiastically. I'm hardly going to say no to a make-out with Mello, am I?

At first no-one notices, then a sort of silence washes over the whole room. I guess it was kind of surprising, seeing us kissing, but really, these people need to be more observant. The way I brush his hair out of his eyes, or he leans his head on my shoulder, isn't enough for them? Ah well.

Eventually, we broke apart. Oxygen is a useful substance, but a constant requirement of it can get annoying. Mello leant over to whisper in my ear,

"Do you think that did the trick?"


	12. I hate to love what I love to hate

**Summary: who hates who? Who loves who? Difficult to say. Do they even know themselves?**

**L**

I hate you because you love her and she hates me. Oh, and you hate me, too. And I hate you because you're you, did I mention that? Yes. I hate you. I hate you for making me hate her and hate you, because I hate the both of you because I love you. But you love her, so I hate you.

**Light**

I hate that you don't trust me. And I hate her stupidity. I hate stupidity, it's stupid and redundant. Hate is hot, pulsing… or is that love? No, no, I hate you both. Hate hate hate hate hate. Hate you. I hate you all. Especially Kira. I hate Kira more than anything.

**Misa**

I hate you. I love him, so I must hate you. You keep trying to come between us, and it's working, so I hate you. I love him, love Kira, hate you. Hate you because I love him but he loves you and you love him and you're better for him than I am so I hate you.

**Mello**

Hate. It's the strongest of emotions. I hate you. I want to be him, and you're in the way. Always in the way. Hate you. Love him, hate you. Love him, because he could be better than you (who I hate) and better than me (who I hate more). Love him because he loves me because I don't hate him. But I hate you. Hate you hot and cold. Hate.

**Matt**

He hates you, so I suppose I do too, but I'm not really sure. I don't really hate anyone. I love him, though I hate what this is doing to him. So I guess I hate them, for sticking him out into this, because I have to hate the people who've caused him pain, right? So that means I hate all three of you…don't I?

**Near**

Hate. Love. Which do I feel? Do I feel either? Both are strong, powerful, surging… I don't feel that. What do I feel? Slight annoyance, at times, slight pleasure. Satisfaction in a job well done. But hate? Love? Those aren't for me.


	13. Actor

**Summary: Matt is a good actor. He can hide pain- or the lack of it.**

That Matt kid's got to be one of the best actors I've ever seen.

He was getting beat up by Knife, kicked and punched, over and over, and he was yelping and crying the whole time. Eventually, Knife got bored, and walked off. As soon as he was out of sight, Matt uncurled from the ball he'd formed himself into, picked up his DS and started playing again.

I had to know how he was able to do that; just get back up again… so I waited until he was passing, pulled him into my room, and demanded answers. He just looked up at me through his long, bright red bangs, and said,

"Promise you won't tell?" I gave my word, and he shrugged out of the large, baggy jumper he'd been wearing. Underneath, he had a pillow strapped to his back, and one to his front. He can't have felt a thing while Knife was hitting him.

"My…my mum used to hit me, so I started doing this." He explained, indicating the pillows. "It didn't hurt so much then…" I frowned, contemplating what I was going to say next.

"Matt…" I began. He looked up at me again. "First off, it'll be more realistic if your eyes are covered; that way no-one'll be able to see you're not actually crying." I walked over to my wardrobe and dug around in it, before finding what I was looking for; a pair of old swimming goggles, which were tinted orange. I passed them to him and, before I could change my mind, I added;

"But you won't need them." He frowned at me in puzzlement. "You won't need them to hide the fact that you're not crying, because I'm going to take care of you." His eyes widened, and his jaw slackened in amazement. Understandable really, because the only time I pay attention to someone else is to beat them up or, like earlier, to get information out of them…which generally involves beating them up. But there was something different in Matt. It wasn't the fact that he was a cute kid (which he was), or his innocence, or even the way he appeared sort of…broken. It was that even though he was a combination of all three, there was something about him that seemed strong, somehow.

"You'll move in with me; I'll tell Roger to arrange it. Go get your stuff." The top five at Wammy's didn't have to room share like the others, but it made it easier to look out for him if we slept in the same room.

He was still standing by the closed door, staring at me.

"Well what are you waiting for? Move it!" I snapped, and he whimpered and scurried off. I found myself wondering how much of that 'fear' was real, and how much was knowledge that I expected it. I brushed off the thought, and went to tell Roger the new room arrangement.


	14. Fever confessions

**Summary: Matt's fever results in him confessing something to Mello that he rather wishes he hadn't**

"Mell, why's it so hot?" Matt complained. Mello sighed. They'd had this conversation several times now.

"It isn't hot, Matty. You've got a fever, remember? It makes you feel hot, but you've got to ignore it and get some sleep, okay?" Matt sighed.

"Kay… you know I love you, Mells?" Mello rolled his eyes.

"Sure you do, Matt. That's just the fever talking."

"No!" Matt protested, pushing himself up in bed. "I love you, Mello! I've loved you for ages! I love your face, your hair, your eyes, your skin…" he trailed off, tired from the fever. Mello stood up abruptly.

"Tell me you didn't mean that, Matt." He said. Matt frowned in annoyance.

"Noo, I did mean it, Mells…I love you!" Mello's arm was vibrating, and his fist was clenched tightly.

"Tell me it's just the fever, Matt. Tell me you don't mean it." He was almost pleading now.

"No, Mello! I mean it! I love you!" That was the last of Matt's energy used up; he collapsed back on the bed, falling asleep as he did so, so he didn't notice Mello bolt out of the room.

In the morning, Matt was feeling a lot better. The fever was gone, and while he still felt weak it wasn't something a bit of food wouldn't cure. He only had vague recollections of the day before, but there was something that kept butting against the haze, something important…then it came back to him in a rush.

"_SHIT!"_ Matt growled, banging his hands against the bed. In his fever-induced state, he'd confessed his love of several months to Mello. Mello, the devout Catholic, who would verbally abuse anybody he even suspected of being gay. Matt brought his eyes hesitantly to the other bed in the room. It was stripped clean. Mello was gone and, Matt could now see, so was most of his stuff. He'd probably be back for the rest later. Matt sighed miserably, and did as he always did when upset; reached for his DS. Some furious button-pushing should ease his misery somewhat. But there was something on top of the DS. An envelope. Matt picked it up and slit it open, lowering his eyes to the contents.

_Dear Matt._

_ Hey there, it's me, Mello. I'm leaving __Wammy's House. You've been asleep for a whole day, so you don't know: L's dead. L's dead, and he hasn't chosen a successor. So Roger decided that Near and I should work together. Can you believe the man's idiocy? ME work with NEAR? Not happening. So I'm leaving to catch Kira myself, without the albino's help._

_Now onto you and me: I don't know if you remember or not, but two days ago, you told me you loved me. Repeatedly. Now, I don't know if that was the fever talking, or the fever allowing you to say what you haven't 'til now. I- crap, this is hard, Matt. I'm gay. There we go, said it. I'm gay! I've liked you for a year now, but tell anyone and I swear I'll find out, and come hurt you._

_You know I don't mean that, right? I just… I don't want anyone to know, okay? Anyway, for obvious reasons, I'm not leaving an address. I don't want to be tracked down by Roger or anyone! But I do want to be tracked down by you. So, here's how it'll work. I know you can do it, you're the best hacker at Wammy's. So if you really do love me, find me. If not, piss off._

_Yours, Mello._


	15. Imagination

**Summary: Matt's musings on children's imagination**

At some point in their life, practically every little boy wants a dragon, and I think you can tell what they're going to be like depending on what they want the dragon for.

Me, I wanted one to ride; I'm a diehard yoshi fan. Mello wanted a ferocious dragon as a pet, so it could "accidentally" eat Near. Near? I don't think he ever wanted anything as impossible as a dragon. They don't exist, so why bother wanting something you can't have?

Of course, that's the whole point of wanting a dragon. You _know_ you can't really have one, but the joy is in the imagining of it; what it would look like, how it would act; whether it'd be a pet, or something you had to fight. That's what I think, anyway. And what do I know? I'm just another gamer who's had his heart ripped out by an attractive blond.


	16. Meek

**Summary: the night before Mello leaves, Matt puts aside his meekness to confront him.**

Meek. It's such a misunderstood word. People think it means weak, shy, quiet… it doesn't. People who are meek have power, but it's under control. They don't need to show it off, flash it around. They know it's there, and that's fine with them.

Matt is meek. He sits quietly in the corner, playing on his DSboy or whatever, but he's got power in him. I can see it, even when he tries to hide it. And he's not hiding it now.

"Mello, there is no way I'm letting you leave." He tells me, while sitting on top of my suitcase.

"You don't have a choice in this Matt, I'm going. There's no way I'm working with that piece of shit…" He merely looks at me steadily, eyes boring into mine even through the orange goggles. Eventually, I had to look away.

"You're not leaving me, Mells." His voice is still calm, still steady… and it's beginning to get on my nerves. He's sounding too much like the piece of shit I mentioned earlier, that damn Near.

"Matt, I'm going, and there's nothing you can do to stop me." I reply, yanking at the suitcase underneath him. He may be bigger than me, but I'm stronger. If it comes to a tug of war, I know who'd win. And so does he. With a sigh, he climbs off, and turns to look at me again, pulling his goggles down from his eyes. Crap. The pain in those eyes is easy to see, now that there isn't all that orange plastic in the way.

"You want to leave me." It isn't a question. I wince internally, and hurry to correct him.

"I want to leave _Near_, not you! I can't believe Roger wants me to work with him!" Stupid old man. Who did he think he was, telling me to work with my arch nemesis like that!

"So you _don't_ want to leave me."

"Of course not! Why would I want that?" Matt has been my follower since the day he arrived at Wammy's. It would hurt, not having my shadow.

"Then take me with you." Was his quick response. I pause, wanting so much to do it. I could see it clearly; myself and Matt, working as a team to take down Kira. Me working busily away at the case with Matt, equally busy beside me. Together, solving the clues that would beat that bastard who killed L…

But then I force myself to see the real picture. Me working busily, certainly, but Matt tapping away on his game thing. A detailed, intricate plan to catch Kira…foiled at the last minute by Matt's laziness. Worst of all, Matt, writhing on the floor from a heart attack, Matt riddled with bullet holes, Matt lying dead at my feet… he can't come.

I sigh heavily, but Matt takes it wrong. He thought I'd sighed in defeat, that he had won. He jumps on me, hugging me tightly, and knocking us both onto the floor in the process. He kisses me, and I respond, of course I do; if this goes the way I'm planning, it'll be our last kiss.

I lean forward, placing my hands on either side of him. To him, this is perfectly innocent, and he pulls me closer. However, my groping hand finds what I'm searching for under my bed, and I pull it out. I snap the handcuffs around Matt's wrist, and the post at the foot of the bed.

"What the hell, Mello?" He asks in surprise, and more than a little hurt. I smile sadly.

"I can't let you come with me, Matt. It won't be safe." And with that, I pick up my briefcase and leave, forcing myself to ignore the snuffling sounds coming from my best –and only– friend.


	17. Quirks and traits

**Summary: some quirks are deeper than they first appear**

Everyone here at Wammy's House has their own unique little quirks. Sometimes they're just out of a desire to mimic L, like Samba dying his hair jet black, or Tower hunching over as much as possible when he walks.

But some go deeper than that. For example, I myself am constantly playing video games because that's how I would hide from my parents' shouting and fist-fights. My brightly dyed hair, too, is a result of my parents. Why would I want to look like them with their mousey brown hair, when they ended up killing each other? It's a way to detach myself from my previous life.

Mello wears his hair the way he does for a similar reason. I got the story out of him one night, when we couldn't sleep. His dad was in the army back in Mello's homeland of Russia, so he had very short hair, and forced Mello to have the same. His dad was a cold, emotionless man, and Mello doesn't want to be like him. At all. So he does all he can to be the opposite: he wears tight-fitting, attractive clothes, unlike his father's stiff, formal uniforms. He has long hair, and takes meticulous care of it. He is continuously eating chocolate, as his father never allowed him anything un-healthy. But above all, Mello _lives_.

The impression he gave of his father was one of a man who didn't really live his life: never stayed up all night to watch the stars; never spent a day just lying in bed, or pigging out; never ran around in the rain; never laughed until it hurt; never spent time playing with his son… hell, Mello didn't know what a hug was. A _hug!_ How anyone could bring their kid up like that beats me.


	18. The goggle question

**Summary: why does Matt wear goggles?**

"Hey, you. Give me those goggles." The big boy standing in front of me demanded. I paled, but shook my head. No way was he getting my goggles.

Oh dear. That made him angry. Now he's shouting.

"Give me the goggles!"

"Why?" I couldn't help myself; the question just popped out. He was so gonna punch me for that.

"Because I want them, you stupid baby. Now hand them over!" Well, it wasn't a punch. But I still wasn't going to give him the goggles which were firmly over my eyes. I shook my head again.

He hit me. I expected it, really, so I went with the movement of his fist; making it hurt a little less. My eyes began to water behind the goggles he was so keen to have. Although, it wasn't the goggles any more, was it? It was his reputation as a tough guy that he was hitting me for; we were in the play room, so there were a few other kids around. They were watching, and he couldn't be seen to lose to a scrawny little kid like me in front of them.

The bully grabbed me by the hair; yanking me up, his hand fisted in the long, red strands. I cried out involuntarily; hadn't been expecting that, and now my feet were dangling above the floor. With his other hand, he tried to pull the goggles off, but I grabbed onto them, holding tight. I was flailing wildly, and the pain in my scalp was becoming unbearable when I heard an almighty yell – more of a roar, to tell the truth – come from behind the boy, and someone jumped on his back. The three of us rocked, before falling sideways.

Immediately the second boy was up and raining punches down on the one who'd tried to take my goggles. I clambered to my feet too and just sort of stood there awkwardly, until the second boy, stopped and grabbed my arm, pulling me away. He walked so fast that I had to break into an almost-run just to keep up.

Finally we stopped, and I leant against the wall of the corridor we were in, massaging my scalp. It was only then that I realised who it was: Mello, of course. He was panting, hands on his knees, but he turned to glare at me through his long, blond hair.

"What were you thinking, Matt? That guy was huge- you shoulda just given him your goggles!" I shrugged.

"I like the goggles." I explained, and added, without meaning to; "They hide things." I winced the moment I said it, but it was too late. Mello pounced on it.

"Hide things? Like what!" He demanded of me.

"I dunno, just stuff." I tried, but he wasn't having any of that.

"C'mon Matt, what're you hiding?" I sighed, and pulled the goggles off, exposing my hated green eyes. Hated by me, anyway.

"My eyes. They're so… expressive, I guess. If anyone looks into them, they can tell what I'm thinking. I hate it." Mello frowned, in his I'm-thinking-so-shush mode. Finally, he said,

"Keep 'em, then. But when we're in our room, just us two, you leave them off, d'you hear?" I nodded, thinking, _he really does think he's being generous, letting me keep the goggles._


	19. Where's Matt?

**Summary: getting close to people isn't a good thing for Wammy's children. Roger tries –and fails- to teach this to Mello.**

Mello blinked sleepily, and yawned widely, stretching. He glanced over at Matt-

_Where the hell is Matt!_ The other bed was bare; no Matt, no covers, nothing. The rest of the boy's possessions were gone too. Even the larger TV that had been brought in for Matt to play video games on had been removed, as had the second computer, the one absolutely no-one could break into.

Mello's eyes were widened in shock, but suddenly they narrowed into malicious slits. He knew who'd taken his Matt away. He just knew it. Quickly rising, Mello grabbed some clothes and quickly got dressed, then walked briskly and purposefully out of the room.

Upon returning from breakfast, Roger was rather surprised to find his office dark: both windows had been covered by their curtains, and the light from the hallway was minimal. Impatiently, Roger flicked the light on, to reveal Mello, sitting in _his_ chair, behind _his_ desk. The boy was glaring at him; a steady and evil glare that made Roger shiver uneasily. He'd worked it out then. Of course he had, the boy was only second by a fraction of a percent. Suddenly, Mello's expression changed. He was now smiling happily at Roger. Somehow, this was even worse.

"Hello, Roger." The boy said pleasantly. "I want my Matt back. And 'no' really isn't an acceptable response. You see, I've found this in your drawer." He held up Roger's letter opener. Roger cursed himself for keeping it so sharp. "And if you don't give me back my Matt," he continued, still in a pleasant, friendly voice, "I'm going to rip out your large intestine and use it as a scarf. You can go now." He added, and Roger found himself stumbling backwards out of his own office.

"Roger? Is there something wrong?" One of the House's private teachers asked curiously.

"Get Matt, and his possessions, and take them back to his and Mello's room." he choked out. The teacher looked at him oddly, but didn't comment. He managed to walk up to his own rooms, before collapsing on his bed.

_We've got another Beyond_. He thought to himself. _We've got another Beyond, and he's even worse than the first one._


	20. Which hurts more?

**Summary: a comparison of Matt and Mello's histories**

Which hurts more? To have loved, and been loved, but then have that love ripped away from you, or to never have known love at all? My name's Matt and this is my story. Mine and Mello's.

I grew up in a different country, with a different name, but we won't go into that. There was just me and mum, living together in a small flat. We were real poor, and didn't always have enough food to eat, but we were happy. My mum was bright and smiling, with long, golden hair and bright, blue eyes. She always told me I took after my dad, with my unnaturally bright red hair and deep green eyes. I'd have liked to have met him, but he died in the war, two months before I was born. Whenever we talked about him a sort of shadow fell over mum's face, and I would hurry to kiss her, and hug her, and make her feel better.

The social services visited us frequently. Somehow, mum always managed to be home with me when they called, and we always had a little food in the house to prove she wasn't starving me, and she would go on and on and on about my school reports, which were real good. And I don't just mean best in the class, but best in most schools in the area. I'll always remember the look on her face when the local fee-paying school offered us a full scholarship, everything included, if I'd go there when I was old enough. She was so happy; it looked like she was glowing. From that point on, I decided to do my best to make her glow as much as possible.

Coming back from school one day, I found the door of our flat wide open. That was odd; she never left the door open. It was too dangerous, in our neighbourhood. I stepped over the threshold, and called out to her. "Muuum?" But there was no answering call. I frowned slightly, confused. I began to search for her. She wasn't in the kitchen, or the dining-room-cum-living-room. She wasn't in the bathroom, or my small bedroom. I finally turned to her bedroom. I tried to push open the door, but there was something in the way. I shoved harder, and got it open a crack, enough to see into the room.

I won't go into details but trust me, it wasn't pleasant. Judging by the amount of blood on the floor, my mum was dead. I went quickly back into the living room, and phoned the police. They came, and took me to an orphanage.

I hated it there. Trust me, you would too. Sure, there was food, and clean clothes, and someone drove us to school instead of us having to walk, but there was no love there, I could see that. I distanced myself from the other orphans, retreating into multiple different worlds. My friends were purple dragons, red and green clad plumbers, and blue hedgehogs, not real people. If people could do that to my mum, and couldn't fix her afterwards, what use were they?

Watari found me about a year later, and took me to Wammy's House, an orphanage in England set up for gifted children like me. It was here that I met Mello, and began to allow real people into my life once more. And speaking of Mello, here he is to tell you his story.

Hey, I'm Mello. Unlike Matty, I never knew my parents. They abandoned me on the doorstep of an orphanage, which had no choice but to take me in. I was about one or two days old. I grew up in that orphanage, and hated everyone in it. When I was little, I hated the big kids for being mean to us little kids, and when I was bigger I hated the little kids for being so annoying. Everyone hated the 'carers'. I think a better name for them would be wardens.

They would always encourage us to play together in the playroom, and I absolutely hated that. Imagine being crammed into a room, with twenty other kids, which had been built to fit about ten. Anyway, there was only one way out of this 'playtime', and that was to be sitting in the head warden's office. The only reason you'd be sitting in there was if you'd done something wrong. So, I did things that were wrong.

I stole chocolate from the other kids and from the kitchens, I pushed over those younger than me and hit those older than me. I kicked and bit and scratched, and I refused point blank to let anyone near my hair. This pretty much earned me a permanent seat in there, so I could be 'kept an eye on'.

In the head warden's office, there were three things you could do. There was a box of crayons and a stack of paper for drawing, but that was sissy and girly, so I didn't do it. You could sit in silence, and 'think about what you've done' but I didn't really fancy that either. The only other option was to read. There was a large bookshelf in there, filled with textbooks. By the time I'd left, I'd read each of them twice.

At first they were indulgent, smiling condescendingly at me as I manhandled a book almost as large as me from the shelf to the table. These smiles stopped when my test scores rocketed to the ceiling. If I didn't understand something in the textbook, I'd keep reading the page, over and over, until I understood. The harder the thing to understand, the more I'd read it, and the better I'd remember it.

It went on like this for several years, me being their 'little genius'. Then Watari came. They didn't want me to go. They really, really didn't. But they didn't have a choice. There was no way this stupid little orphanage in the middle of a busy city was in any way comparable with the sprawling, luxurious Wammy's House. They tried, bless them.

"Oh, but Mello (they called me by a different name, but like I'm going to tell you my real name, hah!) has so many little friends here, he would miss them terribly. Isn't that right, Mello?" I shook my head.

"Well, by 'here' I meant at school. You have friends at school, don't you?" Again, I shook my head.

"And you've grown up here! You'll miss _us_ at least, right?" Us being the wardens. I shook my head.

Eventually, they had to give up. There was no way I was going to stay at this rubbish dump of an orphanage. I left happily, munching on my last stolen chocolate bar.

At Wammy's I met my first friend, Matt, and I've never looked back. Well, to tell you this, but that doesn't count.

Hi, it's Matt again. So, which do you think is worse, then? To love but to lose it, or not love at all?

Of course, Mells has love now. I'm his devoted little puppy dog, and I'd like to say he loves me back, but he'd probably bash me if I did. Right?

Nah, I love you, you idiot. Just as friends, though.

Yeah, course, just as friends.


	21. Wake up Neo

Neo was hard at work on his computer, tapping away at the keyboard, when all at once, the screen went black. He tilted his head to one side, confused. It couldn't be a virus, he'd written the protection software himself. And it was ridiculous to think someone else had hacked into his system – no-one at Wammy's could have broken the encryption he'd put into place around the computer.

A white, blinking cursor appeared on the black screen. Neo frowned, and experimentally tried tapping a few letters on the keyboard. Nothing changed. He pressed ctrl alt del, but again, nothing. Suddenly, words started appearing on the screen.

'Neo…'

Neo's eyes widened in disbelief.

'Wake up Neo…'

There was no way this could be happening to him.

'They're looking for you Neo…'

It couldn't be!

'Follow the white rabbit Neo…'

This wasn't possible!

'Knock knock Neo…'

There was a loud banging noise. Neo jumped, and looked over at his door nervously. He crept cautiously towards the door, and slowly opened it. There was nobody there.

His computer screen had returned to the blank black, and nothing Neo had done would return it to its normal state. Finally, he abandoned it and went downstairs to dinner. It was very late, so there were only a few people there when Neo arrived. In the corner sat two kids – both quite a bit younger than Neo – Matt and Mello, he thought their names were. As he reached the servers, Matt got up, and walked towards him. As he passed, he whispered,

"Knock knock, Neo."


	22. What I've been saying

I love you, Mello. You're my best friend.

Te amo, Matt. You're the only friend I have.

Je t'aime, Mello. You're the only friend I need.

Ich liebe dich, Matt. You're the only friend worth having.

ٲنَا بَحَِّك, Mello. You're the only friend I want.

Ti amo, Matt. You're the only one I'm close to.

わたしは、あなたを愛しています , Mello. You're … I think I _love _you.

Ik hou van je, Matt. I know. I've known for a while.

Я люблю Вас, Mello. Do… do you love me?

Amo-o, Matt. What do you think I've been saying, all this time?

***ana ****baħibbik**

**** Watashiwa anadaoi shemas**

***** iye lublie vass**


	23. Instructions

Get mug and add 1 teaspoon sugar

Add 2.6 teaspoons coffee and 1 teaspoon sugar

Add 3 teaspoons sugar

Boil water and add 1 teaspoon sugar

Add 12 teaspoons milk and 1 teaspoon sugar

Add 4 teaspoons sugar

Add water and 1 teaspoon sugar

Stir and add 2.5 teaspoons sugar

Wait 5 minutes 37 seconds

Drink


	24. Relics

A pair of orange-tinted goggles.

A bar of milk chocolate.

A battered Nintendo DS.

A black rosary.

A cigarette lighter.

A leather vest.

Relics of two unsung heroes: never acknowledged, never forgotten.


	25. Goodbye

Matt.

I'm leaving. L's dead… I can't stay. Not here. I can't… work with Near? Yeah, right.

So anyway, I'm leaving.

See you 'round, Matty.

Mello.


End file.
